Eat Me, Drink Me
by RoseTintsMyWorld97
Summary: Pregnancy can cause you to crave some strange things.


….so um.

Bit of a backstory behind this oneshot. See, an irl friend of mine was reading my story "Most Beautiful," and after reading a particular scene involving a baby being breastfed soon after some vibrator sex, they came up with the lovely idea of a lactation kink fic. Me being a filthy sinner, I decided that, yeah, I needed to write it ASAP. And thus, we have….. This thing. I am slightly ashamed of it, but not ashamed enough to not post it on the internet for the world to see.

Name: Eat Me, Drink Me

Genre: Romance

Fandom: The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Rating: M (for a blowjob, bloodplay, and lactation kink.)

Summary: Pregnancy can cause you to crave some strange things.

Pairings: Riff Raff/Magenta

RHPS belongs to Richard O'Brien.

To my irl friend: this is for you, you shithead

To everyone else: I'm so sorry

* * *

 **Eat Me, Drink Me**

Pregnancy, Magenta had concluded, was a bitch.

She wasn't huge enough around the middle that she was unable to sit up on her own. Not yet. But she was big enough to have developed several violently red stretch marks, to notice that almost none of her old clothes had room for her anymore, and to feel a few uncomfortable kicks every now and then. So, roughly six months along.

The hormones though, those were the worst part. Riff Raff had been tiptoeing around her for a few days, after her last meltdown over an undercooked noodle. Magenta was a bit moody on a normal day; pregnant, she was wrecking havoc on the house.

There was, however, one perk to all this. She slid her hand away from her cunt, body still heaving a bit from her least orgasm. Her short silk nightgown was almost entirely hanging off of her frame, her panties gone, one hand playing with a heavy breast. Her libido, it seemed, had almost reached Frank N. Furter levels.

Magenta was greedy when she wasn't pregnant, and she had no shame in admitting it. Hard to satisfy, no matter whether she was the top or the bottom in the situation. Riff Raff could attest to this greatly; she kept him going until she was hitting five, six, seven orgasms in one day, and she wouldn't be happy as the dominant one unless she had him completely at her mercy. Columbia had once told her, after a particularly long fuck, that Magenta was one of the most exhausting people she'd ever slept with. To which Magenta had responded: "Why do you think I'm here? Riff Raff needs a break from me."

And he did need breaks. A lot of them, especially now that pregnancy had turned her into a practical nymphomaniac. There were times when he had to stop her right as she was approaching him, tell her that he was simply too damn tired, and that she ought to go find someone else to satisfy her for the day. So she did; it wasn't hard to find a casual fuck on the planet Transsexual.

Not today though. Today, she wanted Riff Raff in particular. She'd had some odd cravings during her pregnancy - leaves, paper, uncooked rice - but this one was perhaps her favorite. She craved her brother, and damn if she wasn't going to have him today.

She rolled out of the bed, pausing when she sat up to place a hand over her swollen abdomen. The child's biological sex had been revealed to be female on their last ultrasound. A daughter. . . . well, what would be called a daughter, unless the child herself eventually specified otherwise concerning her gender. Either way, her mind still wouldn't quite comprehend that she was to be a mother. The only time she was ever called "mother" in her life was by Riff Raff when they'd been acting out a few kinks. In a non-sexual context, the word sounded foreign to her ears.

Riff Raff. Her mind immediately went back to him, because he chose that moment to enter their bedroom. He looked annoyed, likely frustrated with his work again, and with a few grumbles he stripped off his dirty worksuit until he was only in his underwear and fishnets, collapsing onto the bed and burying his face in his pillow. She reached out and ran a finger down his bare back, murmuring, "Something happen, love?"

He turned his face so that he could look a her. "Have you ever met someone so irritating that you could almost swear they were put on the planet _just_ to aggravate you?"

 _Columbia_ , Magenta thought. But she didn't bring up the name; Riff Raff, though he didn't often admit to it, was still feeling just a bit guilty from killing her. She was, he'd said, only a human, but he'd still felt a few sparks of mild platonic affection for her. . . . as annoyingly cheerful and squeaky as she had been. He'd never been able to give Magenta a straight answer, when she asked why he'd shot her. She'd gotten the feeling that he might not even know.

Now he was pulling himself into a sitting position and saying, "This man came in and wouldn't stop whining at my employees, demands to talk to me and then comes in with such a patronizing tone. . . ."

He continued, but Magenta found her mind going elsewhere, felt her eyes wander across his body. He'd gained a bit of weight, since they'd come back to their home planet. Still quite a thin man, but no longer a sickly thin. The fishnets that he wore under his worksuit every day accentuated his legs nicely, making them look curvy and soft; and despite having lost most of his hair in the past few years, the locks that were left looked silky and easy to tangle one's fingers in. His shoulders were smooth, his chest had a faint layer of blonde hair, and when her eyes finally went down to his groin. . . .

". . . . and this man decides to tell me the entire history of a Silverstar 6000 model hovercraft, all in that same condescending tone, thinking I actually give a shit -"

"What an asshole," Magenta said, and she scooted a bit closer to him. "You sound like you had a stressful day, Riff."

"Highly," he grumbled. "I swear, if he comes back in tomorrow, I'm refusing service."

"Mmm," she said, slipping a hand along his leg. "Need any stress relief?"

He blinked and just then seemed to notice where her hand was. She ran it back and forth, her fingertips straying to the inside of his thigh. She leaned in closer and placed a soft kiss on his neck, right below his ear. "Stress relief?" he repeated, his breathing noticeably a bit deeper.

"Something to cool you down a bit," she said, and then she nipped hard at the skin right below his jaw. A coppery taste wet her lips. He groaned. "Or, more accurately, heat you up even more."

"Magenta," he said, "please, I'm tired and I'm under a lot of pressure, I don't. . . ." but even as he said this, his arm snaked itself around her, pulling her a bit closer.

"Oh, I know you're under pressure," she said, and she was suddenly gripping his thigh harder, raising her other hand to press it against his bare chest. One of her fingers circled his nipple. "You're about to be under even more."

She pulled her one hand away from his leg and instead reached around to grab the back of his hair. He quivered a bit, and she forced his head to look at her before kissing him, attacking him with her tongue and not stopping even when she heard him gasp against her for breath. He didn't pull away, though; he turned his body toward her more, and reached up to put a hand in her hair. She pulled away and grabbed his wrist, his fingers inches away from her head.

"Did I say you could touch?" she growled. He looked dazed, but he murmured back a docile "no."

"No, I didn't," she said, and she slid her hand down, over his fishnets and underwear, to stroke the growing bulge. "But I believe I did say you needed some. . . . stress relief, I called it?" Her fingertips had found his shaft through the cloth and were massaging it. He began to let out a few whimpers. "My poor Riffy, you've been so on edge all the time. . . . let me take care of it, will you?"

Without waiting for an answer, she pushed him onto his back. He didn't object, and only reached up to wipe a bit of sweat off of his reddening forehead. Sweat, perfume, a bit of dirt, a dash of oil. . . . the scent filled her airways, and it made her want to smother her body onto his until she was covered in it herself.

But instead, she directed him to raise his hips so that she could pull off his little remaining clothing. He wasn't completely hard when she had him free, but soon, he would be. Magenta slipped herself between his legs, gently caressing his thighs with her nails.

Her long, sharp nails. Riff Raff's eyes strayed to them, and when he whispered " _Hurt me_ ," she gave him a cordial smile and swiped a hand across his leg. He let out a low hiss, and a few parallel lines of red formed across his leg. She did it again, and again, until the red swipes covered his thighs, the skin slightly swollen and pink, beads of Riff Raff's blood starting to slide off the sides. The tips of her nails were now tinted red, and she leaned over him, sliding her fingers to his lips. "Care to clean me up a bit, love?"

He obeyed, closing his lips around her fingertips and washing the blood off with his tongue, a few small moans making their way out of him. When she pulled her hands away, he was panting, and now completely hard. She smirked at him and let her gaze fall to his bleeding legs before saying, "Now, let me return the favor."

Magenta slid her arms under Riff Raff's knees and lifted them up a bit, turning to run her mouth over the tiny cuts. Metallic taste, combined with the salt of his skin. . . . She lapped it up hungrily, feeling her need for it growing. She stopped a few times to cut him more, craving the gore that ran from his skin, before eventually feeling satisfied enough to stop.

"Genta. . . ." he said, and she saw his hand snake over to try and touch himself. She reached out and smacked it away.

"That's my job, love," she said. She slid her hand down to curl her fingers around the base of him. As she gently massaged him up and down, his eyes fluttered, and his lips parted in pleasure. Magenta leaned forward a bit, letting her tongue wet her still-bloody lips.

She kissed the tip of him before sliding her lips onto him, taking the head entirely into her mouth and sucking gently. He groaned and gripped the sheets, her name coming out in a pleading tone. She opened her mouth a bit more and slid herself farther down onto him, flicking at him with her tongue and sucking hard as she pulled back. She kissed the sides of him, moving to press her palm against his balls and grind it against them. Soon he was completely in her mouth again, and his hips shifted a bit, trying to get himself farther into her. Her response was to move her hand away from him and press it hard to the fresh wounds on his legs, and he twitched a bit in pain, saying, "Please, my love, I need you, just please. . . ."

Magenta pulled up and let go of him. He groaned lowly in frustration, giving her the most needy look that she almost went back down on him again. But she didn't, instead rubbing his thighs with a cruel smile, working up the circulation so that his blood was starting to flow again. This time, the red was staining her hands.

"What's wrong, Riffy? Am I being cruel to you?" She let a few bloody fingers slide down his shaft, and he made a pathetic sound. "I'm sorry, love. I'll make it up to you." A hand slid up under her loose nightgown to expose one of her swollen, slightly achy breasts. She caressed it, leaving red streaks all across her flesh, and when she squeezed her nipple, a few drops of fluid came out. "Care for an early dinner?"

Riff Raff's eyes widened. "You want me to. . . ?"

"Why not?" And with that she pulled herself out from between his legs and gave him a wicked smile as she went to sit on the edge of the bed, her legs hanging off.

He leaned up, and a small grin crossed his face. "Not something I can say I've ever done before. How intriguing of an idea, Genta."

"I try," she said, and she motioned for him to come to her. He did, crawling forward and turning so that he was being cradled against her, her enlarged belly warm under him. He reached up a hand and stroked her breasts, and she felt herself getting wetter as his thumb went over a sensitive nipple, pinching it until more fluid leaked out. Riff Raff's tongue snaked out, first to taste his own blood on her chest, then to lick the wet nipple. A small flash of pleasure sent more heat down to her cunt, and he closed his lips around it suckling gently. . . .

"Riff Raff, I know you have to be hungrier than that," she murmured. She hugged him a bit tighter to her chest.

He opened his mouth wider, and circled his tongue around her almost agonizingly slowly. Then he sucked, much harder, almost painfully. She gasped and felt a brief convulsion through her body, but the pain was welcome.

"Keep going," she said to him, her voice commanding. His hand massaged her, and he began to drink in earnest. Magenta let out a few small moans of "yes," and "more," her aching breast feeling like it was finally being relieved of its weight. . . .

After he seemed to have drained it, Riff Raff moved onto the other breast, and she paused him by firmly gripping his jaw. "Did I say you could have more?"

His glowing red face formed a smile, and he said to her, "May I have more?"

She moved her hand down his chest, his belly, until finally her fingers found his dick. He hiked up his breathing as soon as her hand was around it. "Maybe. What do you say?"

He looked her straight in the eye and said, in perhaps the most seductive purr she'd ever heard, "Please?"

"Now, there's the correct way to ask," she said, and she could feel his pulse speeding up in her hand. "Yes, you may."

Riff Raff almost attacked her other breast, squeezing it with his hand and drinking it as if it was the first liquid he'd had in days. Her arousal was heightening, and she gripped his dick and rubbed it hard, up and down, her thumb pressing hard against the tip.

He didn't stop even after he came, wetting her hand with his fluid. He continued to suck until she was dry, and when he was done, he looked up at her with eyes that shone with innocent affection and filthy lust. He smiled a bit and murmured, "We ought to do this again some time, my darling. You taste divine."

She gave him a smirk back, saying, "Technically, that stuff isn't supposed to be for you. . . . but, we do tend to share everything, don't we?"

"Indeed. And by the way, I must praise you, my darling sister. Your stress-relieving techniques are most impressive," Riff Raff sat up out of her arm and flipped so that he was sitting next to her. His legs began to bleed again. . . . with a smirk, she leaned over to stroke them, bending downwards to trail a few small kisses down the scarlet lines. When she arose again, she leaned in to kiss him hard, and his lips were bloody when she pulled away.

"You know, back on Earth, these type of things. . . ." His hand slid across her leg and brushed over her cunt. "Blood, breast milk. . . . they'd all be considered so taboo that only someone truly sick in the mind would do them."

"If I remember correctly, our _sibling bond_ isn't exactly smiled upon here on Transsexual," she said. "And by both Earthling and Trannsexualite standards, we _are_ both sick in the head."

"This is true. We're quite insane."

"It could be worse, we could be like Brad and Janet."

"I don't want to think about us being like Brad and Janet."

"Nice boring sex twice a week, you always on top, both of us becoming so repressed that we're ready to burst."

Riff Raff shuddered. "The very thought is terrifying."

"Speaking of being ready to burst. . . ." Magenta spread her legs so that her still-soaked cunt was fully visible. "I've only had around five orgasms today, Riff Raff, time to get to it."

"What, no please?" He teased, even though he got to his knees in front of her and smiled a bit. "Is that all I am to you is a living sex toy? Your own Rocky, if you so will?"

"Of course not, but there were admittedly only a few things I wanted you to do today." She smiled a bit wider as his head got closer to her cunt.

"And what were those things?"

"Eat me, drink me."

* * *

….

So, yeah. I'm just going to let this festering shit sit here and go back to working on the next chapter of MB.


End file.
